


home, where the heart is

by orphan_account



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[currently being rewritten] War is not always about tragedy and heartbreak, Allen learns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	home, where the heart is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilentSilhouette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentSilhouette/gifts).



> This is meant to be in character installments, so this is unfinished, sorry! I'm also likely going to rewrite this in the future because there are some things I wish I had delved more into with more time. Hope you like this for now!

_“You, too, are someone that has been given a destiny by God. You wanna become an exorcist?”_

On a cold December evening, a curled up child with hair as white as snow looks up.

 

—

_purpose_

—

 

Cross Marian is not a kind person, Allen learns. Despite hearing whispers of the things Cross did while Allen had been dealing with the aftermath of the curse, despite bestowing Mana’s precious name unto him, Cross Marian is not kind.

Allen stares up at the ceiling while he lies in bed, within the confines of the Order, curses the man, and remembers.

 

Allen throws up the first time he sees _that_. Whatever that skull thing is, floating up from the monster in front of them. He’s shaking on the ground with a hand covering his mouth, wide eyed and teary, before seeing a shadow in front of him.

It’s Cross. They meet eyes and Allen looks away because the nausea is crawling back up his throat.

Cross places his gun back into its holster. “A sad existence, isn’t it?”

(When Allen wakes up that night drenched in sweat with the sheets dirtied and wet underneath him for the first time in months, Cross doesn’t say anything. He makes a face, but automatically goes to change the the bed and hand Allen a new pair of clothes.)

 

“How do I become an exorcist?”

The bags, though they thump heavily on Allen’s limbs as he walks, do not wear him down. He’s carried and been through worse in the circus.

Cross Marian suddenly stops as he turns around to face him, cigarette between two fingers and eyes wide. Allen watches as that gaze narrows and draws itself away for a moment before returning.

“There’s a lot to learn, kid,” Cross Marian says slowly. Allen half-wonders if this guy is as big a deal as the old lady and her son were making back in that house. The lack of an answer isn’t easing the knotting feeling in Allen’s gut. Cross Marian exhales a breath of smoke before continuing, “got that?”

“I want to become an exorcist! Tell me how!” Allen demands, like it will get him answers from a man as enigmatic as the one standing in front of him. Cross Marian doesn’t look amused as he stands there, a towering figure against Allen’s height, before flicking Allen on the forehead.

“Ow—”

“Calm down. Nothing good will come out of rushing you into something you don’t know, idiot. I know you want to for Mana, but it takes time. You’d die otherwise.”

Somewhere inside stings when Allen thinks of Mana. There’s a little aching burn settles into Allen’s eye. As it throbs, Allen winces to himself. It’s better than before when he had first gotten it, but it’s not enough—he remembers, and he remembers. In his memories, there’s a top hat, an akuma, and his damned infected arm lying atop of the pieces that used to be Mana.

“I’ll teach you everything you know as long as you’re ready for it,” Cross says as he turns around and continues walking forward.

Allen trails behind readily.

 

The first lover of Cross’s he meets is a beautiful Japanese woman with long black hair like fine threads of silk. She speaks like honey, but finer. It reminds Allen briefly of someone he’d once known in the circus, having seen her talking to Mana a few times. She and Cross do not pay much attention to him beyond greetings and the initial offering of food that Allen takes for his famished stomach.

“So, who is this child?”

“My new idiot apprentice.”

“Hey—!” he cries out in response before promptly being shut up by food lodging into his throat. He chokes, sputters for a little bit, and regains himself in just a few moments.

Allen looks up and Cross’s lover looks a little amused while Cross seems bored.

“Truly a child, hm?”

“Yes—” Cross says while reclining in his seat, “—but not helpless. Wouldn’t pick him up otherwise.”

 

Japan is only the first of many countries that Allen travels to with Cross. Their treks are marked by distances traveled via train and ship, and all the while that the two of them have time to themselves, Allen learns. There’s the monsters called akuma, the villain called the Earl, the heroes called exorcists.

“This is the path given to you by God,” Cross says while they’re in the train compartment to London. “It’s not going to be an easy one.”

Allen looks at his gloved hands. Between the cuff of his sleeve and the end of his glove, he can see a sliver of grey, veiny flesh. He remembers that snowy late in a December a little far away. No amount of trials will ever compare to what he did to Mana that night.

 

“Your arm.”

Allen looks at Cross, who is sitting on the other bed. For all the training Allen’s been put through, it seems a lot more like he’s just doing Cross’s errands and covering up his carelessness.

“What is it, Master?” The title still feels weird on Allen’s tongue, but the more he uses it, the more it feels right—like it fits.

“Nothing. Make sure to buy all the things on the list tomorrow.”

He steps out. Allen, upon realizing he’s almost out of spending money, almost throws something at the door.

 

A few years pass and Allen has changed. His view is worldlier, he’s stopped wetting the bed, and the nightmares no longer make him shake. The akuma, he learns, are pitiful things that shouldn’t exist, born from the darkness in people’s hearts.

He sits in front of Cross, who looks at him with a discerning eye.

“Okay,” Cross finally says after a moment of silence. “Go to headquarters. They can tell you what I can’t, and they could use you.”

 

Cross Marian isn’t kind, but he does give Allen one thing: purpose.


End file.
